


For Family

by mothteeth



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Abuse, Implied abuse, Protective Stan, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothteeth/pseuds/mothteeth
Summary: Someone you thought you were finally free of comes back into your life and threatens everything you love. You can't let that happen, even if it might destroy you.





	For Family

**Author's Note:**

> This is, uh, something really personal to me. I hope someone else gets the comfort reading it that I got from writing it. Remember that you're not alone.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, and you’re stocking shelves at the Mystery Shack. You’re stretched on tiptoe to put bobbleheads on a higher shelf when you feel two hands grab your waist. You yell as you curl in on yourself and whip around. Anyone who knows you knows better than to do something like that, at least if they want to avoid being smacked or dealing with the ensuing panic attack. The face that’s only inches from yours when you turn is too familiar, and you feel panic rising in your gut.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You put on the coldest face you can manage despite your heart beating in your throat. 

“Aren’t you happy to see me, sweetheart?” his grin is malicious, too wide and toothy to be genuine. 

“How did you know I was here?” 

“Little birdy told me.” Fuck. Who told him? You run through the list in your head, deciding it was either your father or your best friend. They’re the only ones who actually stayed in touch with him. 

“It’s been two years. Why won’t you leave me alone?” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I missed you. I wanted to see you again.” the artificial sweetness in his voice makes your stomach turn, but you stay strong. 

“Go home, Dave. You shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I thought I made that abundantly clear when we broke up.” You try to keep your voice even, but it's getting increasingly difficult. 

Mercifully, Stan comes around a corner, the tour he was leading dispersing to shop. “Hey, ____, this guy givin’ you a problem?” His presence next to you reassures you, but before you can tell him everything is fine, Dave pipes up. “Wow! Who’s this? Your boss?” 

“Knock it off, Dave.” you hiss, narrowing your eyes. The only thing that betrays the panic that holds you is the nearly imperceptible tremble of your hands. “This is Stan. We’re... We’re together.” 

“You’re kidding.” Dave breaks out into loud guffaws, and Stan puts a hand on your shoulder, you jump, but put your hand on his to keep it there. His fingers tighten, ready to pull you out of the way if need be. “He’s what? Twice your age? Fuck’s sake, ________, I’m almost disappointed. Not that you could do better, but damn.” 

“He’s better than you’ll ever be. Now go. You saw me. You played your dumb games. Now leave.” 

“Not yet. We have to talk.” Dave grabs your arm, trying to pull you away. Before you can say anything, Stan has Dave’s wrist in his hand and he’s squeezing hard enough to make deep indents in the skin. 

“Give me a reason, kid.” Stan says quietly, but menacingly. People are starting to stare. 

“Stan, it’s okay. I’ll be back in five minutes.” you whisper to him, trying to reassure him despite every fiber of your being telling you to run. Stan gives you a skeptical look, but lets go. 

“Alright, but if you aren’t I’m coming to find you.” Stan very pointedly stares Dave down as he says this. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to lead Dave outside to talk. 

You step outside the gift shop and into the yard. You feel a little safer in the sun, where people can hear and see you. Not to mention Dave isn’t as much of a threat in direct sunlight. “What do you want?” 

“You. Thought that was pretty obvious.”

“No. I told you before, I’m not doing this again. You almost killed me. You know that, right? I’m not doing it. Not again. Not ever.” 

“I’m real sorry to hear that. I truly am. It would be a real shame if something happened to your new boyfriend.” 

“You wouldn’t.” but you know he would. Your face pales. 

“He’s got a good soul. I can see it. But if you’d rather I destroy that, it’s fine by me. I heard a hell of a lot more than just where you were, babe. I know everything. I know about the twins, both older and younger. And if you want them to stay happy and whole the way they are, you’re coming back with me.” 

“Don’t you fucking touch them. This is between you and me.” 

“Of course, dear. I wouldn’t dream of hurting them. So long as you come back with me. I’ll even give you the rest of the day to decide. Aren’t I being nice? You can even say goodbye if you want.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“That’s for later, dear. Meet me at 11 in the cemetery or I reduce this place, and everyone in it, to rubble.” You look away, at the trees and the sky of the place you’ve come to love so much.

“Fine,” you sigh. 

“Oh, and come alone. We don’t want a repeat of last time.” He leaves before you can respond, not that you would be able to get any words past the lump in your throat. How the fuck are you going to do this? 

Stan comes outside a few moments later to find you curled into a tight ball in a corner of the porch. He slides down the wall to sit next to you, and you lean into him and cry, all the panic and bad memories coming out in a torrent of tears and body wrenching sobs. Stan justs puts an arm around you until you can finally breathe again. You can see him arguing with himself on whether or not to ask about who that was or what just happened. You take the decision out of his hands by taking a steadying breath before speaking. “That... That’s my ex boyfriend. I don’t know if you remember the couple of times I talked about him,” Of course he remembers. How could he forget the panic you were thrown into just talking about him. About you having a breakdown on what used to be your anniversary. “But that’s him.” You let out a humorless chuckle. “He leeched off my energy and soul for four years before I finally got the courage to leave, and here he fucking is. I almost can’t believe it. That’s not true. I can totally believe it. Fuck.” you bury your face in your hands, a fresh wave of tears rendering you unable to talk. 

Stan takes a long moment to let you breathe before he says anything. “I’m not letting anything happen to you, _____. He’s not getting anywhere near you again.” 

“You don’t understand. He’s dangerous.”

“I’ve dealt with more than a few dangerous people in my time, doll. Some punk kid doesn’t scare me.” 

The words of reassurance are sweet, but only serve to twist the knife in your belly. You can’t let anything happen to him. You have to leave, to protect him. To protect everyone. He finally has his family back and you’re sure as hell not going to take that away from him again. “Let’s go inside. I’m kind of tired.” It isn’t a lie. You’re dead tired. You don’t know if it’s the crying or Dave’s influence, but you feel like you could sleep for a thousand years. There’s no time for that, though. You have to talk to everyone. Just to let them know how amazing they are. There’s only a few hours left until you have to go. 

When you get back into the house, you’re instantly surrounded by the Pines family. Stan probably didn’t tell them everything, but it looks like they know something. Even if they didn’t, you’ve very obviously been crying. You sit on the couch while Stan goes to make dinner. Mabel and Dipper sit on either side of you, like protective bookends. They’re so sweet. You can’t let anything happen to them. Mabel puts on one of her favorite movies, something silly and sweet, and you almost break into tears again. They don’t deserve to deal with this. You have to go. For them. Even Ford sticks around, keeping an eye on you, just in case. You have a feeling Stan put him up to it, but right now that’s okay. 

Ford leaves the room for a minute, probably to go grab something from his study. You excuse yourself to go find him. “Hey, Ford? Can I talk to you about something? I think you’d have more experience and maybe be able to help me.” 

“Of course, ________. What do you need?” 

“Do you know anything about wraiths? The kind that look like people.” 

“A little bit. Why?” 

“Is there anything you can do to deter them? Like get them to focus on something else.” 

“Not that I know of. Again. Why?” 

“Thank you, Ford. You’re really amazing.” You give him a hug, surprising him. You’re not usually so openly affectionate with him, not that he minds. He still doesn’t know why you’re asking, but he knows he’s not getting anything out of you that you don’t want to say. 

Dinner is tense. There’s an air of doom settled over the table. Or maybe that’s just you. It does seem to be quieter than usual, though. No arguing, no food fights, just quiet eating. It’s unnerving. You do your best to be cheerful, but it's painfully transparent. You’re too forced in everything. Every muscle is tense with fear and worry. Why does it have to be like this?

After dinner, everyone settles in for the latest episode of Ducktective. Dipper and Mabel are talking theories about the latest plotline, and it's good to see them so animated. Stan and Ford, on the other hand, both look contemplative between sideways glances at you. They know something’s up, but hopefully they don’t catch on until you’re gone. It kills you to hurt them like this, but it’s all you can do. This is the only way. Stan is going to be devastated. Brilliant, abandon someone who’s had the door slammed in his face a thousand times. After all the time you spent trying to get him to let you in, and now it's all going to waste. You’re bitter, but you push that aside to spend your last few hours with the family that readily took you in. This isn’t fucking fair. 

Around 10, goodnights are exchanged before everyone heads to their rooms. Stan lingers until you bid him goodnight, kissing him softly. You try to memorize what he feels like. What he smells like. God, this isn’t fucking fair. Too soon, you pull away to head to your room to pack a few necessities before you leave. You throw a few sets of clothes, your toothbrush, and the necklace Stan gave you for your birthday into a bag and get ready to leave. The tears that flow down your cheeks are silent, almost unnoticed. 

You close the door behind you softly as you go to leave. You want to look around the house one more time, but you don’t have the time. It’ll be okay. Maybe it‘s better if it fades. And that makes the tears come harder. When you try to sneak past the living room, you hear your name. You hastily wipe your eyes before turning to Stan. He gets up and walks towards you. “What are you doing?” He asks. 

“I... I have to go. Dave won’t stop until he has me under his thumb again, and I need to go. He said he’d hurt you if I didn’t go with him. I can’t let that happen.” 

“You’re not going alone. I’m not letting you.” 

“You can’t. I’m not letting you endanger yourself for me. Stay. Enjoy your time with your family. Please? I have to go.” 

“You’re my family now. I’m not letting that go. I either go with you or you don’t go.” 

He’s wrapped his arms around you. Why does he have to make this so fucking hard? You take his arms from around you and hold his hands, partly because you don’t want to let go, but mostly so he doesn’t take you down with him when you tuck your leg behind his knee and jerk it out from under him. He drops like a stone, and the look of confusion and shock breaks your heart. “I’m sorry!” you call out as you sprint out the door to your car. You can hear him yelling after you as you peel out of the gravel lot. 

 

 

Ford is up and running the second he hears Stan hit the ground. His family is under attack, and he isn’t there. Fuck fuck fuck, have to make sure everyone is safe. He skids into the living room to see Stan still on the floor, too shocked to move. He hears the sound of tires scattering gravel and Stan yells out your name. “What happened?” Ford shouts, trying to help Stan to his feet, but he doesn’t have to. Stan is on his feet and running to the door within seconds. The only thing that stops him is Ford grabbing his shoulder. “Let go! _____’s in trouble. I have to go after her!” 

“Stanley! You can’t help unless you know where she is. Or what she’s up against. Stop for a second!” 

“What’s going on?” Mabel and Dipper are on the stairs, rubbing their eyes in the light of the hallway. 

“Kids, I will explain everything later, but right now I need you to go back to the attic, okay?” Ford tries to stay calm, but doesn’t do as well as he’d hoped. Mabel looks like she’s about to argue, but Dipper pulls her back to the attic. If Stan and Ford are acting like this, it has to be serious, and they’re better off staying out of the way. At least for now. Not that that’s going to stop them from eavesdropping though. 

“Stan, what happened?” Ford turns his brother to look at him, just enough to try to ground him from the panic he was in. 

“Her ex. She said she had to go with him. Said he made threats or somethin’ but she’s all alone with that creep and she’s going to get hurt I can feel it.” 

“Shit.” Ford spits out, your questions from earlier clicking into place. 

“What?” 

“_____ was asking me earlier about wraiths. I didn’t know she meant she was dealing with one.” 

“What’s a wraith?” 

“That’s kind of up for debate. The typical commonality is that they’re-” 

“Can you get to the point?” Stan snaps. He’s too full of panic to regret it yet. 

“Right. They’re soul-sucking monsters. They feed off their hosts emotions and take their souls.” 

“You think... her ex. Is a wraith?” 

“I know it. She wouldn’t have asked me how to get rid of one otherwise.” 

“Okay, so how do you get rid of one?” 

“I... I don’t know.” Ford admitted. “Supposedly they’re weak to iron like most spirits, but beyond that I really don’t know.” 

“I can work with that.” Stan runs to his room and comes back seconds later with what looks like a very worn set of brass knuckles. “Iron. Got em cheap and they pack a hell of a wallop.” Ford shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. “You stay here with the kids. I’ll be back.” Stan’s face is set. Ford hasn’t seen him look like this since Bill was threatening the kids. This isn’t going to go well. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ford tries to ask, but Stan’s already out the door. “Try the cemetery!” He shouts out the door as Stan gets into his car. He sees the slightest nod before the second car of the night peels out of the gravel lot. 

 

You get to the cemetery five minutes before 11. You steel your nerves to get out of your car. You almost can’t open the door, your hands are shaking so bad. The tears are coming again, and this time, it's more panic than anything. You can’t do this again. You take a deep breath. You can’t afford not to. You get out of the car and walk through the gates. 

“Alright, Dave. I’m here.” you call out, trying to stop your voice from shaking. 

“I knew you’d make the right decision, dear. Come here, I’ve missed you so much.” You walk towards him against every single instinct you have. It’s for them. For Stan and Dipper and Mabel and Ford. They’re going to be safe, and that’s enough for you. Dave takes your hand. You think he’s going to take you to his car, but he doesn’t. He leads you to a blanket he’s set out between two tombstones. Almost like a macabre picnic, but the blanket is bare. You get a sickening feeling about what it's for. 

Dave smirks, “Like it? I really have missed you. I want to show you how much.” His hand grabs your ass as he says the word “show” and you think you’re going to vomit. 

“You don’t want to wait until we’re back home?” You ask, trying to sound like you’re not dizzy and nauseous. 

“I can’t wait anymore, dear. I need you now.” and he pushes you to the blanket. Your head hits the ground and the breath is driven out of your lungs. He’s on top of you before you can draw in a breath, which makes your panic worse. You’re shaking uncontrollably and the tears are streaming down your face from tightly shut eyes. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Don’t want you to miss this.” he leans down to bite your neck, too hard to be good. You whimper as he rips your shirt open, trying to expose the skin underneath. 

While you’re trying to be anywhere else, trying to pretend you’re safe and snug in a blanket fort with the kids, you swear you can hear the telltale thunkathunk of Stan’s car. It helps you to ground yourself, thinking about him. It also drives a dagger into your heart. He must hate you. But at least he’s safe. This is happening to keep them safe, and you let yourself go limp. 

The sudden weight being lifted off of you drags you back into your body, mostly because it fucking hurts. Dave was ripped off of you, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be. You can feel the deep scratches in your skin, but that’s not what you can focus on right now. As your senses return, you can hear yelling. One of the voices is Dave’s, but you could swear the other one is Stan. Your vision unblurs enough to where you can see that yes, Stan is here, and is currently grappling with Dave, and might be winning. You jump up but fall off of unsteady legs. Stan’s eyes snap to you and Dave takes advantage of the distraction, shoving Stan off of him and into a tombstone. 

Your scream surprises even you. Dave takes one moment to look you in the eyes to gloat, but that’s a mistake. Stan is up and swinging, only needing a moment for an opening. You see something glint on his hand before it makes contact with Dave’s chin. Dave’s head snaps to the side and he screams, holding a hand to his face. When he pulls it away there’s a burn where Stan hit him. I’ll have to tell Ford he was right. Stan thinks before landing another blow, leaving another burn. Dave stumbles away. You’re not worth this. Dave looks at you one last time in disgust before bolting back to his car and speeding away. 

Stan sits heavily on the ground, panting. You convince your legs to fucking work and stumble over to him in the closest thing to a run you can get. “Relax, doll, I’m okay.” 

“Stan, that was so fucking reckless. He could’ve killed you.” 

“Yeah, but he would’ve definitely killed you.” He takes a deep breath before standing back up. He pulls you into his chest before you can say anything else. You’re so relieved that all you can do is cry into his shirt. He just holds you for a long time, his lips pressed into your hair despite the twigs and dirt you know are in it. 

“Thank you.” Is all you can manage to gasp out between sobs. 

“I love you, _____.” is his response. You try to say it back, but you can’t get the words out. He shushes you gently, “I know.” And you actually manage to cry harder. 

After what seems like forever, you finally pull away. You just want to go home. You say as much. Stan slips off his jacket. You try to ask why, but you look down at your tattered clothes and come to a conclusion yourself. You wrap it around yourself, relieved to be surrounded by something warm that smells like Stan. You go to get into your car, but Stan gently leads you to his. “You can’t drive tonight. We’ll figure something out tomorrow.” You just nod, grateful not to have to drive like this. In the car, you snuggle as close as you can into him and start to doze off. You’re, for lack of a better word, completely drained. 

When you both arrive back at the Shack, Stan gently lifts you out of the car to carry you in. You’re both immediately swarmed, but Stan doesn’t stop. He takes you directly to his room and places you gently on his bed. You whimper when he lets go, but he leans down to reassure you. “I’ll just be in the kitchen, okay? I’m not going far.” 

“Stan. Please don’t tell them what happened. Not all of it. Please.” 

“I won’t.” He promises. He pulls a t-shirt out of his dresser and hands it to you. It's more than big enough to cover you. Once he’s out the door you take a minute to look over the scratches and bruises on you before putting on the shirt. It brings a fresh wave of tears, but at least now you’re safe. You’re too tired to face anyone, so you just curl up under the covers and try to wait out the tears. 

 

“Everything is fine.” Stan starts, even when met with looks of disbelief. They can very plainly see the cuts and bruises on Stan, and they saw how you looked when you were literally carried in. “You were right about the iron. Burned on contact.” While Ford would normally be incredibly interested in the potential scientific discovery to be made, right now he’s much more concerned about you and Stan. 

“What happened?” 

“That guy Dave tried to make _______ go back with him, I managed a few good shots with these,” he shows the bloodied knuckledusters, “and he ran off.” 

“That’s it?” Dipper asks. 

“Kid, I know what guys like that are like. They’re all cowards. They only pick on people they know won’t fight back.” They don’t need to know anything else. All they need to know is that it’s taken care of, and everyone is safe. They look like they want to press more, but Stan walks back to his room, effectively shutting down the conversation. 

When the door opens, you jolt upright in bed, still expecting Dave to take you again. But it’s Stan, and your shoulders relax. You scoot over in the bed as he approaches, but he doesn’t make a move to get in with you. “How are you holdin’ up, hon?” He asks softly. 

“Not great.” you admit, dragging a hand through your hair, catching on the bits and pieces of twigs. “But better than I was.” 

“Why don’t you go shower. I’ll even stand watch at the door if you want.” 

“I... I think I’d like that, if you’re okay with that.” 

“‘Course I am, come on.” he’s already got your pajamas in his hands as he walks you to the bathroom. You’re shaky and sore, but you need to wash off, probably more than just the dirt too. 

The water is near scalding when you step under it. You hiss as it hits the open scratches and cuts, but it’s almost cleansing. You know this is a bad idea, but one too-hot shower isn’t going to kill you. You wash off quickly, not wanting to be naked any longer than strictly necessary, at least not right now. Once you turn off the water and dry yourself off, you can hear the faint murmur of voices on the other side of the door. You aren’t sure what Stan and Ford are talking about, but just hearing them so close is comforting. You pull on your pajamas and open the door, stepping out into the hall. 

Ford notices the cuts and bruises, but covers it well. “Are you okay, _____.” 

“Yeah. I am. Thank you.” You’re being sincere. You give him a hug. He doesn’t put his arms around you, but you’re grateful for that. More physical contact is a little too much right now. You yawn, and Stan takes your hand gently. “Alright, it’s time for you to go to bed.” Normally you would argue, but you can’t tonight. There’s just no energy left in you. There’s even less fight in you. You follow him back, and stand to the side while he remakes the bed with clean sheets. You might have gotten some dirt on the others. As soon as it's together, you collapse onto it, scooting to the far side. 

The look on Stan’s face is conflicted. He wants to make you feel secure, but he doesn’t know if actually lying in bed with you will help that. “Please stay with me.” You say, your eyelids drooping.   
You  
“I’m not going anywhere.” Stan strokes your hair. You take his hand and pull him onto the bed with you. “You’re sure? I can go grab a chair or something.” he offers. He’s so fucking sweet. God you don’t deserve someone so amazing. Instead of answering, you wrap yourself around him, settling your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He lets out a soft sigh, holding you close. Finally feeling safe, you manage to drift into sleep.


End file.
